


The seventh night

by Lil Tiger (XiaoHu)



Category: NCT (Band), NCT Dream
Genre: Fluff, Haunted Houses, M/M, Surprise Kissing, apprentice haechan, magiiiiiiiiiic, pizza delivery mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:20:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiaoHu/pseuds/Lil%20Tiger
Summary: Headline: a Pizza man tragically delivers pizza at haunted house.Truth to be told, Mark never thought he'd survive seven nights in a creepy cranky mansion with quite the annoying magician. And he’s persuaded to be under some sort of potion when he start to look for a familiar red cape clad boy everywhere and anywhere, even in his dreams.Come, and read the fun, surprising, sparkly, magical and scary at times chronicles of the very tiring and adrenaline rushed week of an innocent pizza delivery boy. Disclaimer: jump scares!
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who reads then proceeds to comment. You are so nice.  
> I truly want to participate and give quality content to the fandom I love! Critique and love letters alike are most welcome :)
> 
> DISCLAIMER:  
> \- i do bieleve in magic  
> \- there is actually no jumpscare. dw im not the type to post any selfie online  
> \- im posting after a year and a half I was really excited to do so  
> \- so there May have lots of typos, as I have yet to proof read for error
> 
> nice reading, love <3

The seventh night

It’s Saturday, but without the day. It’s far from it, actually: 3 and some in the morning, and Mark is standing on the foredoor of the haunted, abandoned, ruined, haunted, and haunted house. But the thing that tingles his hair by the back of his neck _the most_ , is that it’s rumored to be _haunted_. Yes, it’s just over there, under the crawling hand like trees perching like demonic skeletons, unkempt bushes that look like they could hide a thirsty murderer or a shady wolf creature, half dead and dead leaves ornating the ground, and a chill breeze that make them ruffle over each other in a chilling sound. Chilling sounds that send a train of goosebumps all down his collarbone.

_Wait, was that a bat?_ Squinting his eyes dumbly at the sky and then at the hanging _thing_ on the branch, that is dangerously close to him, doesn’t give him any reply or clue that would calm him even a bit down.

He eyes the extremely shining gold [_thing_](https://www.pinterest.fr/pin/345580971386891296/) plastered on the door. He is supposed to bang it against the door, being the only thing that’ll call for the imaginary owner. It almost comes from the past, rusty with all those scratches... Maybe that was a bad idea. Maybe he should back down. And maybe doing so will save his life.

Maybe Mark should calm down. He sighs heavily, but that just has the opposite effect on his sweaty body, tensing up even more at the churning of his stomach. Indeed, what if this is one of his last exhales of oxygen. God gracious.

Now, what is the course of action that ended up in him delivering a ‘special after midnight discount pizza’ in an supposedly abandoned and deserted manor, standing by the outskirts of the town home to his house and workplace ever since he can remember ? Workplace that is this overcrowded pizzeria, which is equally as deserted at night, but the delivery service has no second to stop and breathe at whatever time.

Whatever happened between the phone call after the dead of the night, and the moment his scared coworkers pushed the delivery on to him, Mark doesn't know, He doesn't know why it seems like he finds himself doing the longest, most perilous deliveries. Or maybe he should question why he always accepts them.

There’s heavy lock somewhere around the doorknob that start ringing, turning, saying: ‘i _t’s too late to regret now!_ ’, and Mark clutches the still warm pizza, prays and promise to God that if he survives this, he’s gonna start saying no and maybe punch his boss in the face. Eyes clenched close, he hears the door opening with an old, creaky sound, very, very slowly, Mark mirrors and fully opens his eyes, too.

The creature he faces, is a boy with a red paper crown that has a look almost as bewildered as him. It hangs on his face, pushing down his jaw in a mild gasp. Maybe, just maybe Mark can survive this.

The boy stares at him then and the pizza between them. “What’s this.”

“Uh, pizza.”

“And why are you here?”

“To deliver this pizza?”

“No, wait,” He says, brings his hands up, agape and tense and then closes them, Mark swears the gargoyle above the door snickered ‘ _you don’t understand, boy_ ’ in a small voice. He swears he did, but ignores it. The boy continues: “no one comes in this manor without being called-- uhh, invited by it.” He stops, long enough to let hesitant eyes coupled with a short silence slip, a cue for Mark to reply:

“Well, we did receive a call and this is the address we were provided—“

“Wait.” Mark does.

“Does this pizza have pepperoni on it?”

“Pepperoni? Uh, yeah...”

Then, the boy thinks. Still not letting him inside, or giving any money to pay, so Mark could get out of this creepy ass place. But he thinks, heads down looking through the pizza towards the marble floor, giving all the time for Mark to observe his warm skin and brown hair, his red baby doll shirt and those equally as red shorts he is clad in. If that boy is definitively not creepy unlike the environment, he is extravagant, wearing this ridiculous, dark cape on his shoulders.

The boy thinks, and Mark doesn’t know if he found the answer to whatever he was looking for in his thoughts, but something changes in his expression: was it the tension? It was, because he lowers the hand that was subtly scratching his chin, and connects their eyes with a blink.

“Come in.”

Mark doesn’t know if he’s supposed to, and if he is, he doesn’t do it fast enough because the boy brings both his hand to sit them on his, sandwiching then between the warm buzzing pizza. Pushed him over the welcome carpet, which mark was sure was a goodbye one when he first looked at it just moments before.

The boy stops, looks over the side, his left and his right, even just above their head where a chandelier hangs, then over Mark’s shoulder.

“This manor never lets anyone find it unless it wants them to.” He waits for Mark to say something, to say he’s following him. He doesn’t. “God, I hate this talk.” He says, probably to himself. “You know the woman on the phone that goes ‘if you’re looking for this, press two, if you want that, press three. You know?”

Silence. Mark never bothered to answer drunk people. He doesn't this time too.

“Well I’m the same thing. This manor has 126 rooms and each leads to a magician, witch, potion maker, another dimension, hypnotiser, a library, an atelier, anything!”

Again, waits for mark to say something, to tell him he’s following him. Again, he doesn’t. 

“Uh.” He starts, mirroring Mark’s mind. He seems to be trying to remember the last part of a memorized speech. “Just like I told you, i’m a guide to you. And just like I told you, the manor sensed you needed it, so it showed itself to you. Now i’ll be the one to guide you in this manor, together we’ll find the right… solution to your case. All you have is to tell me your wish, desire, hope, probleme that has to be solved, anything, everything!”

He ends proudly, but start stuttering, scratching the back of his head. “You got it? Press 1 if you understood, 2 if you didn’t.” 

He looks at mark, waiting for an answer. He expect it to be positive, judging by the content expression he is wearing proudly. If Mark doesn’t believe him, it’s not only because of the absurdity, but even more because he seems to believe it himself. A party with too much drinks and youngsters with nothing to do: or so Mark’s fast thinking mind gives him this explanation for everything, the otherwise deserted manor, the curious clothes and the creative talk.

Mark simultaneously jump and turn back, startling him. “I think I’ll be good without payment too.”

“Wait, stop!” The boy says, but Mark already did when he turned towards the door. Just when did it close behind him? Not even two seconds ago was it wide open, Mark is sure it was. 

“I’m not drunk”, tugs at his sleeve with the free hand, the other balancing the pizza box on one single finger. Mark pretends he didn’t see this. "And there's no party here."

_Wait. Did he just read my mind?_

The boy barely gestures towards the chandelier they’re standing under. And he barely opens his mouth. _While we’re standing under this chandelier, you can read mine too, but only if you're in its shadow._

They both look at it, sliding their head up to glance upwards. They slide back their eyes in unison into a stare, and the paper crown stands still on he boy’s small head, hasn’t moved an inch.

The boy looks at Mark, smile unmoving like a stiff painting. Mark looks back. The boy cues his head in a tilt.

Mark starts to pretend he’s drunk too.

“You are questioning my truthfulness, right?” When Mark doesn’t do or say anything, the boy continues “Let’s start with the basics: my name is Haechan, i’m a magic wielder. You wanna get out of this haunted place right?”

Under his frown, Mark’s glare swipe to the left then to the right.

“Yes.” he supplies.

“All you have to do, is tell me your wish, and I’ll guide you toward the right room that will get it, once that happens, the door unlocks,” snap of the fingers, “Done!”

Mark is still blinking, startled by the sudden clapping of finger in front of his eyes. The boy, Haechan, has the pizza standing perfectly balanced on this single finger as he waits for an answer.

“So, it’s better for the two of us that you tell me quickly, if you have a wish, a problem, or something you want to change, something you want. Anything! Even feelings, but they’re very costly.” He continues his voice become mechanical in a fake diplomatie.

Haechan then forces a smile, annoyed with the latter's muteness. “do you have, maybe, something that bothers you nowadays?”

Mark either think fast, or is not one to think too much. He answers fast: “no”

—

Around a pizza. Sitting in a deserting kitchen, wide and huge. Some of the fruit, Mark doesn’t recognize.

Maybe the boy he met in this huge manor is not rich kid that got wasted in a late night party with his equally rich friends. Even if that could explain everything, including the very curious clothes he wore, Mark thinks he’s more of a very rich heir whose parents are always away on business, and got drunk to forget his late night loneliness. That can explain the blabber at the porch, but nothing more. So Mark ignores all the mind reading tricks and tricky hands, and surrenders (a habit, as mentioned before), accepts to become company to this boy that's around his age in his pizza eating session, on the longest table he’s ever seen, in a oddly wide kitchen. Where the amount of knives is too numerous not for it to be unsettling, and, are those piranha in the aquarium?

“Are you sure? Not a girlfriend to catch? Some pair of sneakers you dream of coping? Some questionable amount of money you thirst over? A family member you want to disappear? Or...”

Haechan pushes his weight on his elbows to hover on the table, whispers: “A dark practice you want to master?”

Mark doesn’t react, nods negatively, almost robotic at this point. He almost hear the sound of an old door trembling left to right from his cervical spine.

“It’s not that’s hard, it’s not even costly. Some people only pay the price of a key ring they adored since baby, or their first plushie. Something meaningless like that.”

His expression changes with that of realization when he catches Mark reacting in some kind of way. Actually, he barely frowned.

“Oh yeah, there’s a price to pay, but that depends on what you want. Sometimes it’s some penny lying in the depth if your pocket, other times it’s the soul of you pet cat. Depends” ends with a shrug, resonating with himself as if he just didn’t contradict his previous dialogue. Then he takes another bite of the sloppy pizza, observing Mark’s expression, which didn’t change much aside from the blinking, that’s stopped at least.

As Mark wonders how much this guy’s must've been lonely to muster up all that imagination, he doesn't catch the absence of Haechan’s loud pizza munching machine loud, or his shoulder sloping downwards.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

Mark blinks twice, still on his seat. This time, Haechan lets out a grunt out of his nostrils, resembling a sigh somehow.

“Look, the last word you have said is ‘pizza’, are you okay with that? What if you just, suddenly _die_? What will you do?”

It doesn’t persuade Mark to break from his mute trance anyway, because the last word he said was ' _no_ '. It’s not positive, but it’s better than pizza anyways.

Mark looks up toward the window where the skeleton fingers of the trees are waving _à Dieu_. When he turns back, Haechan is showing him his two palms after sighing, as if in a surrendering stance. When he gathered enough attention from Mark, he crosses them two times rapidly, then snap his right finger against his palm, sending a gasp out of Mark’s mouth, who slaps his chest, looking for his wallet. It’s indeed seated in Haechan’s hand instead of the warmth of his shirt pocket. 

Haechan looks pleased with the reaction, the corner of his smile twisted with mischief. “Now I’ll have to do the trick at least three time, or else your wallet will disappear forever”, that makes Mark gasps again: his student card is in it. “I’m sorry, but that’s the rules. Anyways, that was just a cheap trick, with almost no magic, but still, a little... pinch of.”

The chair against the back of his knees cries as haechan stands up promptly, cleaning his hands on his shorts, before embracing Mark’s. “Come, if I show you around the manor, maybe you’ll believe me then.” As Mark surrenders again, Haechan blinks with a pure expression, colored with friendliness and nothing else, Mark has to admit.

As he’s carried mercilessly around the manor then down a huge, wooden, corridor Mark looks down on their linked hand, and then the other boy, unbothered. The creaky sound their heels do as they marry the century old wood is uncomfortable to Mark’s ears, resembling that of horror movies. Mark almost crashes as Haechan abruptly stops, “Say hi to Doyoung hyung, he’s my teacher.”

The painting of a pale, black haired man waves at him, shining him the gummiest smile.

Hand covering his pouty mouth, leans on to whisper, “He’s actually scarier than he looks, watch this. With a snap of two finger, another man comes into the image, and instantly, they start fighting, sending each other thunders and light bolts. “that’s Taeyong hyung, my teacher’s best magician enemy.” 

Mark watches, bewildered at the moving painting of two man, one of which awfully resembles his boss, so maybe he’s drunk after all. Or on drugs. Or dreaming. But he’s definitely not watching Harry Potter ever again.

“Hate is love, just with confusion and a pinch of misunderstanding.” Mark looks at Haechan, who seem to be deep in thought at the view of the two adults in huge capes sending each other laser like bolts through their magic wands. They jump all around the frame, predatory, eyes on each other. Mark shivers.

“Your, uh, teacher isn’t around?”

Haechan’s thought bubble pops as he swiftly turns at him. “And he speaks!” exclames, “English that is.” smiles as he lay his finger on top Mark’s lips, tingling them. “He left me for an emergency wizard meeting or whatever. They needed him to fight for an incoming war.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mark guesses that’s what he should say

“It’s okay, he’s not dead yet.” 

Mark doesn’t know what to add to the exchange so he stays shut.

“The rest of the pictures are boring, because I don’t know their weakness'. Come!” Haechan runs towards some stairs that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. Mark follows.

“So basically, my teacher had to leave me in this manor, with another teacher and her apprentice.”

“So there’s another one like you?”

They stop. “Yeri, she’s a year older but she’s very pretty. This is her room.” without hesitation, barely looking around for another presence than theirs, he jump inside.

They looks around, it’s full of what Mark classifies in his mind as ‘teenage things’. Like poster with boys, some makeup on a vanity and some more on the bed. also some books. It also looks like you've stumped in a fortunee teller's tent. Everything is under shadows, red, purple, bright and colorfully scented.

Marks almost falls over a book. Haechan picks it up and opens on a random page. Mark stares bewildered as, for the second time this night the pictures start moving, acting out the chapter Haechan stumbled upon. 

“Do you think girls always like things like that?” He ask Mark whos hovering closer over his shoulder to look at it, too. In this small place, these barely-five minutes have made them oddly confortable with each other.

They both find themselves engrossed in the tumultuous story of a friendship between two schoolboys. Haechan gasp as they kiss, looks at Mark as if he’s the one who wrote it's scandalous content and close it down with a thump, air sending away Haechan’s hair.

“I didn’t know girls read things like these” Haechan seem slightly disgusted, moved as he rearranges his hair.

“I don’t think there’s much wrong with two boys kissing.” They both stop to gaze at each other. “I mean, if they like each other.” Tries to add in this dead silence, but it doesn't shoos it away as they both stay silent, eyes falling onto each other’s lips.

Mark coughs and Haechan start looking at Yeri’s pins collection, welcoming another type of silence that soon becomes unbearable because, maybe Mark is hearing someone whisper from Yeri’s closet?

They seem to get louder and louder when Mark decide to muffle them and speak up. “Uhm, isn’t that stealing?” 

The whispering stop, Haechan too, hesitate before finally slipping the pin of his choice into his front pocket.

“it’s not stealing if she doesn’t know.” a smile lit his face as he mouths : _Secret_ , brings his hand to his lips, “between you and me.” 

Haechan's dark orbs, layered under his heavy lashes and his brown fringe, shined with mystery and mischief. Yet, Mark seemed drawn to something in it: it was almost unbearable, his dark eyes were hiding a glowing innocence and childishness he had never seen in someone this age. If he looks longer maybe he'll start believing in magic like Haechan does. The heavy atmosphere, in this purple dim lit room, how drawn he felt he almost felt the churning of the 

“I think I know what my issue is.” Mark exclaims breathlessly. He doesnt know why he is. Suddenly, Haechan’s takes a step behind to listen carefully, which thankfully makes his lungs lighter. 

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s sweaty hands.”


	2. Chapter 2

Actually, it isn’t. Mark just wanted to say something. To occupy his mind because with the lack of thought, his imagination was rolling towards a way he didn’t want it to. Indeed, he was starting to feel sweaty around the red clothed boy, so he blurted out anything that would get him a little away from the brown poodle of hair that felt too fluffy against his cheek as they read Yeri’s personal manga collection. 

It worked a little, he could guess. Even though Haechan seemed hesitant and at first, he pushed the boy towards a dark, cranky elevator.

“So we’re going upstairs?”

“Depends.” Haechan spares half a reply but no glances. Then suddenly, he frantically pushes the lift's button. “Were running out of time! Come on, help me push the buttons.” 

Mark is confused at first but then mimicks the boy who’s quick on his feet, pushing each of the six elevator on each side of the corridor. Mark doesn’t question where they are anymore, and not even why there are so many elevators, as he always had a good sense of orientation but no matter how much he concentrated this time, he always seemed to miss a stair, or corridor. Or maybe they just magically appeared. That would explain why the mansion is bigger than it seems from the outside.

“Oh, not that one. This lift's haunted and it doesn’t even work.” 

Mark complies and stops his hand mid air. 

“So you said we’re buying cookies?” Mark shifts his weight on the wall next to him as they wait for any of the six door to open. Well, except the haunted one.

“Yes.” Is the short reply he gets. “Cookies that stop your hands from sweating.”

Silence settles down between them, comfy and unbothered. The ketchup stain cutting mark’s blue uniform shirt feels heavier with awareness. Mark tries to scratch it, even knowing it won’t to any good to make it disappear. Why is Haechan not so chatty, suddenly? Is he that eager to send him out?

The boy in red clicks his tongue. “Why aren’t they working? They always work!”

Haechan is almost walking in circles when a door open with a 'ting!'.

“That’s a surprise, thought this one never worked.”

Mark starts to panic as he steps inside. “Didn’t you just say it was haunted?”

“Come on in, we don’t have time!”

They step inside an old creaky elevator. Those kind of primitive, antique one, almost archeological with no automatic door. It’s the one Mark sees in old movies.

“See that clock over there?”

Mark turns towards the glass window only to gasp and almost fall back. They’re at least seventeen meters high, and why does the view in front of him look like they’re seven levels high in a grand hotel when they just got off the first floor?

“Why are you so scared of a clock? Anyway, see the time?”

Haechan is pointing to this huge clock obviously and perfectly hanging in front of them. Mark nods. Of course he does.

“Well we only have this much time before we find a solution to your sweaty hand. One can only stay this much time per night at the mansion. Exept for me of course.” He indicates the lack of time with pinchy fingers hovering at the view of the clock. 

Mark’s breath hogs over the glass. Courageous, he bends a little more to see the view of the first floor. He doesn't recognize it at all. “What happens if we don’t.”

“Well, you’ll have to come back tomorrow” Mark could feel uneasy at this, but what he hears next makes him smile a little bit. “,that could be fun actually,” then what he hears after that makes him jump over to Haechan. 

A screeching sound akin to the cries of an old machinery, in its last moment of usage.

“What was that.” He hugs the othe boy's arm like it's his mother. “Haechan What was that.”

The other boy nonchalantly sighs.“I knew it was too good to be true for this lift to work.”

The said lift around them starts pitifully crying again then, with a a shock and a hit, stops moving, and send both boys over each other, then against the wall and then over each other again. when Mark decides to open his eyes because he felt a warm breath over his lips and a soft set of hair tickling his forehead, he realize under his chest and between his legs lays the red boy, and for the first time so disheveled: his paper crown sitting next to his head on the dusty elevator floor. Too close. Fluffy hair against his forehead and their breath intervene before falling on each other again as the lift almost teasingly staggers again.

He quickly sits back and set the other boy free, who just as quickly gets himself standing and shining again. However Mark is slower to recover from the shock. Which one, he doesn't know. When he finally amass enough courage to look at Haechan, the tan boy wears a disgusted stare towards him.

“Are you actually scared? You’re a pizza delivery boy!”

“Huh." Mark supplies. He's still a little bit dazzed. Haechan abandons the exchange for the sake of finding a solution, suddenly remembering he was on a hurry.

“The emergency isn’t working.” 

Before even Haechan forces the door open, the sweet and warm scent of patiserie welcomes Mark's nostrils. Between the erratical clicking sound of the magician pushing any button he could find, as if it make the door magically open, the heavy metal opening was pushed over to reveal a blinding light showcasing the two boys. In front of them, just as they step out, a fuzzy bakery stands. Very European, but the touch of baby blue a tad bit heavy. It kind of reminds Marks of his pyjama set he used to wear when staying over at his Grandma's in the silent countryside. But what would a bakery be at the top of a mansion, or Grand hotel, whatever this place is?

“Always doing fishy business in the elevators, I see.” A voice call for their head to turn towards the counter, engulfed in pile of artistically arranged breads and carbs, freshly warm. A young man stands welcoming them, wearing the most beautiful apron Mark's ever seen.

“Jaehyun hyung!” Haechan exclames, and clarifies promptly like a pretend soldier. “He’s a client. He’s got sweaty hands.”

“Wow, couldn’t you find an easier task for me?” Jaehyun remarks jokingly. Mark tried really, but honest mistake, he thought this was the easiest problem he could give Haechan to solve. “This one’s gonna be hard."

Almost instantly as they enter the bakery, overpassing the doorstep, Jaehyun's arms start moving like a magic spell. Wooden spatula, gigantic cooking pot, sparkling flour and eggs a little too small and a little too big. All were swiped clean off the work table with one gesture of Jaehyun's arm. Haechan disappeared from Mark's side to bring an aquarium bowl the size of Haechan and Mark's head, combined, and thump it in the middle of the table still dusty with the flour.

“Water?” Jaehyun asks Haechan, contemplating the stupidly normal bowl as if it would have any magic in it, as if it could solve any of Mark's sweaty problem's!

Yet Marks get engulfed with the baking happening in front of him. What is Haechan going to pull this time?

“Water.” Mark supplies unknowingly, that engrossed in the scene he was.

“Not any kind of water.” Haechan says as he dumps it in the aquarium.

"Paper?" Jaehyun asks again, making Haechan stumble away and back to him with the asked ingredient in his hands.

"Paper." parrots Mark.

"Not any kind of Paper!" It was a Fish shaped paper. Haechan finally turns to Mark, and he's back to being the main character. “Okay, what makes you the most nervous, Mark?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Lees surprise test? Lucas failed attempt on confessing? When he’s boss not around so everyone can give him the hard tasks? When he has to go to the toilet but the guest are there? 

“You have to!”

Maybe not knowing what to do. What doesn’t he know to do? Everything. 

No. There is something. “Kissing.”

Haechan for exactly half a second is satisfied with the reply.“Ki-What?” Then for another half second, he ponders, two ghost blush howering over the top of his cheeks. He then concludes: “That’s the payment, then.”

At that, Haechan takes Mark’s head with both his hands squashing each cheek. Mark is processing what they’re about to do, slowly enough to let Haechan close the distance between them but stop halfway, then putting the forgotten fish shaped paper on Mark’s thin, apart lips. 

Then he forces their faces together with such force that both their eyes are forced shut at the strength, both their lips and the paper between them disappearing as the warmth of their skin seeps into it. 

In half a second and a blink, when Mark opens his eye, it’s finished and Haechan is already inches away grinning at him then at the now cookie fish inside the bowl. The paper disappeared from between their lips to find itself as a cookie floating in tape water in a aquarium bowl. 

However, there is a faint hint of a red tint a the surface of the apprentice magician's ears. A little flustered, he asks almost accusatory : “What are you zoning out for?” 

Jaehyun laughs in the corner. “Are you sure you didn’t actually suck his soul out.”

“My kisses are way more performant than yours.”

“How would you know, apprentice?”

“Well, Doyoung hyu—“

“Okay, what if you go back to business? Don’t you have a guest to escort out?”

And that is how Mark's first night in the mansion ended. Red at the start, fast in the middle and blurry at the end.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment your thoughts, so I can deliver more chapters to your doorstep. It gives me real motivation!  
> 


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